


D:BH Archive

by ariadne-rx300 (moonbeam_broker)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Connor Deserves Happiness, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hank Anderson Deserves Happiness, Multi, Protective Parent Hank Anderson, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 21:51:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20265082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonbeam_broker/pseuds/ariadne-rx300
Summary: A collection of D:BH writings I occasionally post on my tumblr.New tumblr @ariadne-rx300 where you can come interact if you want to! Maybe even request something, idk.





	D:BH Archive

Heavy steps on the pavement. Calm, orderly, precise. Full of programmed assurance and marked experience.

Token in his grip--US currency: a quarter from the year 1994. Through many incarnations he'd kept it without really questioning where or why he'd picked it up.

He'd never had the need to question it, and yet there it stayed, a quirk in his personal code. Even picked up a few tricks to stave off the impatience that came with the waiting game.

It was a peculiar trait, but not one he paid any processing to. In this equation, he didn't matter. There was too much at stake to be focusing on himself. It was the same reason he'd given away his existence time and time again for sake of the mission.

That didn't stop it from annoying the shit out of the Lieutenant, his closest associate.

No, it was more than annoyance at this point. Every action this _kid_ committed himself to ate away at Hank's resolve, more and more, little by little. He'd already been at the end of his rope by the time they were introduced, surprised there was still so much edge left to cling to.

The truth about Hank was that he wanted something to believe in. He turned himself to irony by remaining, by quietly hoping and praying he would be a catalyst for change in that kid's head, though he openly claimed there was nothing left to fight for.

Life had taken away what mattered most to him while simultaneously providing him with a new last resort, an opportunity for happiness if only he was willing to stick it out.

Connor, his opportunity, had proven his worth in the midst of scaring him out of his mind on several occasions.

It was all part of the plan, unbeknownst to either party.

_"Jesus,_ Connor. The hell you think you're doin' swaggering back over here? I saw you get shot!"

Furrowed brows, confusion written in the wrinkles on Connor's forehead.

Ah, right. Humans were fragile. Even one shot could mean certain death.

It was something Connor had no need to fear, not that he was aware of fear at all. Pain was altogether a foreign concept.

He spoke a different language of artificial arteries with no such nerve-endings, lived a life in which his central processor told him everything he needed to know. He didn't require a doctor, he could repair himself if parts were available or perish only to have his memories plugged into a new body.

In this particular case, he harbored a few bullets but none of his biocomponents had been severely damaged. Thirium oozed from his wounds and bled, fading, through his outer jacket.

"I'm an android, Lieutenant. I can take a few shots."

The half-smile he wore despite his current state--was he kidding? Smug bastard.

Almost like he was conscious--_proud?_\--enough to enjoy his own immortality, to rub it in the other's face like some lottery prize.

Hank wasn't amused, and certainly not relieved beyond doubt at his confidence--even if he was unaware it was for his sake.

"Yeah, _okay. _Don't have to remind me twice."

His words and actions indicated a scrap of caring for his artificial friend, that to which Connor was currently blind. Hank didn't like to be caught in his own denial that the kid constantly tailing him was anything but human, but it had become increasingly unbearable to watch Connor die--over and over--as though he were stuck in a loop.

As though they were _both_ stuck in that loop.

Give and take; at the end of the day Hank was the one who felt the anxiety, the anguish, the _grief_ all over again.

He didn't sign up for this shit.

_'Be more careful, okay?'_

He would have said it were it not for the fear.

He'd already become too attached that admitting it, even to someone as ironically oblivious as Connor, was like waving a white flag. Hank wasn't ready for that yet.

Connor had never asked himself:_ What if the next time was the last?_

What if Cyberlife decided they were done patching him up every time he came back from the war, every time he fell in the line of duty at the hands of his own kind?

Connor wasn't yet capable of realizing how much he really mattered. Hank would lose another son.

And he still hadn't acknowledged it.


End file.
